


Alone

by fuckthenaysayers



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Character Death, Coma, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckthenaysayers/pseuds/fuckthenaysayers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watched one of the videos in a playlist called 'Rage Quit'. Gavin had never laughed so hard in his life. He watched another. And Another. Next thing he knew, he'd been up all night and watched as many of his videos as he could before he got called in to work. He did his rounds before settling in at Michael's room, his laptop in his lap, legs crossed and tucked under him as he sat in the chair comfortably. People came in and out now and then, it'd become quick word around the hospital that you'd find him in Michael's room more than his own.</p><p>"I watched your videos last night."</p><p>Gavin spoke to the brunette in bed. No response, but that was nothing new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

It was a bit of a lonely life. Gavin had done it to himself. He could've been a doctor in England, still be at home with his family and friends, have people to go out with on the weekends and nights he had off. Instead, he chose to go to America and be a doctor there, specializing in brain injuries. He was well-liked by his peers, slowly gathering a group of friends outside of work but it was still rather lonely. On the days he could go home he always went alone, only having a social life if someone invited him out.

But still, it was alright. He had his lonely moments, usually pushed them away with the help of alcohol or a one night stand and kept moving. He could handle it. His main concern was his patients, dedicating as much time as he could to them, practically living at the hospital until they forced him out now and then to get some proper rest.

He just had a new patient transferred to him, coming from a small local hospital. He walked into the room, the lone man in bed. He was pale and freckled, hair brown and curly, framing his face. Glasses were on the small side table, a personal touch, probably his mother put them there. Just in case, after all, if he woke up he'd want them, she was sure of it. He looked around Gavin's age, possibly a little older. 

A look at the clipboard at the bed told Gavin all the details. Michael Jones, age 26, 'two years older' Gavin thought, comatose for two weeks now. He'd been at the beach with friends and got swept under by a huge wave, almost drowned. The lifeguards had resuscitated him, though it had taken longer than it should've. He hadn't opened his eyes since.

Michael was transferred to Gavin's hospital in hopes that with their more extensive care, he could be roused from his coma, though Gavin was already doubting it. There was no definite recovery in sight, comas caused from lack of oxygen had a much smaller rate of recovery in comparison to other causes like poisoning or head trauma. At worse, the prolonged lack of oxygen may have given him anoxic brain injury, a lot of his brain tissue's cells may have died already. But they would keep trying until a definite diagnosis was recovered, whether it was good or bad.

Gavin couldn't help but feel the tragicness of the situation, a man almost the same age as him, the prime of his life, struck down in the middle of a fun time with friends. He should've been used to it, and he thought he was. Maybe the difference was just how much Michael was his type. He looked like the sort of guy Gavin could picture himself flirting with at a bar, take home and have a fun night together. He shook himself out of it, setting down the man's clipboard and quietly leaving, heading to check on his other patients.

\---

Michael was on his mind. He had been since he first got sent here. It'd been a month now, the man showed no sign of waking up anytime soon. Gavin found himself in his room more often than any other of his patients, starting to just spend time there, filling out paperwork in the soft chair in the corner. It felt almost serene to him, just being in the same room as him.

He spoke to him sometimes, things that could've been mistaken as just talking to himself, but he didn't need to do that. So it had to be for him. Just little mumbles of what the day was like, what was going on.

"Can't believe that ponce nurse tried to steal from a patient, how bloody rude is that?"

"It's so nice out today, wish I could just lay us out in the grass all day. You might get sunburned though, haha. What a funny thing that'd be to wake up to, eh?"

"I'm so tired... I don't feel like going home though. Seems like I get better rest in the doctor's quarters than my own bed nowadays anyway."

He stopped for a little while when a nurse walked in on him talking to Michael once, embarrassed over how easily he spoke with the comatose man, blabbing about whatever he felt. A couple days later the nurse commended him though, it'd always been said that it was good to speak with coma patients, some responded to other's voices after all. He started up again after that.

\---

He googled Michael Jones. The man was an avid gamer apparently, if the youtube videos he found were anything to go by. He'd thoroughly searched the channel to make sure it was his, a few thumbnails with his face proved it was indeed. He clicked one, letting it load fully before hitting play. His voice was higher than he expected. His vocabulary more... colorful, too. 

He watched one of the videos in a playlist called 'Rage Quit'. Gavin had never laughed so hard in his life. He watched another. And Another. Next thing he knew, he'd been up all night and watched as many of his videos as he could before he got called in to work. He did his rounds before settling in at Michael's room, his laptop in his lap, legs crossed and tucked under him as he sat in the chair comfortably. People came in and out now and then, it'd become quick word around the hospital that you'd find him in Michael's room more than his own.

"I watched your videos last night."

Gavin spoke to the brunette in bed. No response, but that was nothing new.

"You're unbelievably funny when you're mad, you know. I laughed till I cried, then I laughed some more."

Silence swept over, minus the quiet clacking of fingers on computer keys. An aide came in with a cup of tea, a kind bit of charity, leaving it next to Gavin on the chair's armrest. It was already just how he liked it, the aide had studied his preferences to a T, not that Gavin would even notice.

He picked it up, sipping it slowly. Tongue burned but he kept drinking until it was half-empty.

"I wish you would've done more videos in Halo, I love that game. You're bloody braver than me though, playing Dead Space on Impossible mode. I don't know if I even could on the easiest setting, all those jump scares..."

Gavin bit the inside of his cheek, his fingers paused over his keyboard. He could feel the loneliness that typically swallowed him trying to drag him down to depression. Closing his eyes, he fought back a bit. Michael was here, to some extent. He wasn't alone anymore. He opened his eyes again when the lonely feelings were fought away fully, sighing and smiling, far too content for a doctor.

\---

Three months. It'd been three months since Michael was transferred to him, and he had not made a smidgen of recovery in that time. His body actually seemed to be slowing, his heartbeat low and slower than before, his breathing stilled to the point where he had to be on permanent oxygen assistance. His brain cells were too far damaged, he was too far gone.

Gavin purposely ignored the parts on his chart that spoke of his slowing heart and breath, pretended like it was as okay as he could. He had his nurses speak to the family, they were always better at the sympathy thing anyways. Or that's what he told himself, because the truth is that if he'd had to talk to them, he was pretty sure he would've broken down right then and there.

He didn't go home anymore. He lived on hospital food, had what little sleep he had now in Michael's room, terrified he'd miss it. It being whatever life had planned for Michael now, if anything. His other patients weren't ignored, Gavin doing his best to keep on track despite what was happening. One recovered during that time and he had to watch as the patient hugged her family and friends, chastising himself for wishing it was Michael that woke up instead.

There wasn't much time left. It was clear to anyone who could see Michael. The man was paler than ever, looking almost just a shell of his former self as he laid in the bed, oxygen tubes in his nose and a few different tubes in his arms, attached to little bags on the sides of his bed, feeding him nutrients and vitamins and medication, the medicinal side of the world doing all it could to keep his heart pumping properly. 

Gavin's chair was right next to Michael now, unable to keep himself away anymore. No nurses or doctors visited unless called for specifically, everyone leaving him be. Michael's family and friends came to say last goodbyes, spurred by the words relayed to them through the nurses that the time was almost over. Gavin hid in the quarters until they left, he couldn't bare to see their faces. 

When he wasn't trying to force himself to do some work he was rewatching the videos. Michael in his prime, spitting out venom-filled words at the creators of the very video games he was playing, going on beautifully creative rants over the idiocy of the games he forced himself to play. 

Gavin didn't laugh at them anymore, sometimes he didn't even watch them. He just closed his eyes, took in Michael's voice, the voice he'd never heard in person. The voice he would never hear. He tried to picture Michael in his bed, that voice coming from such a frail body seemed almost silly now.

A soft hitch in breath made his eyes snap open, his hand immediately pressing the space bar and pausing the video, setting his laptop to the side.

"Michael?"

He leaned in, his own breath stopped as he locked eyes, green on brown. Gavin frantically smashed the nurse button, grasping Michael's hand, his heart racing as he felt the slight movement of fingers trying to grasp him back. 

"Michael? Can you hear me?"

The brown eyes slowly shut again, green ones tearing up as the heart monitor flat-lined. 

"Michael? Michael! You can't! We didn't even get... We..."

Gavin clutched the man's hand, the body heat slowly dissipating from it, his body wracking with silent sobs. Nurses rushed in, one forcing him away as another doctor came in and tried to resuscitate him. A zap with the defibrillator pads. Another. Nothing. One last try. Nothing.

"I'm calling it. Time of death, 4:06 PM. Someone must notify the family immediately."

Gavin had no semblance of professionalism left in him, no act to put on for his colleagues, tears streaming down his face as he clutched onto the nurse that pulled him away. She held him until he pulled away and locked himself in the doctor's quarters.

\---

It took a couple weeks for the family to set up the funeral, Gavin invited of course. What family wouldn't invite the doctor who'd worked so hard for their son? He was there, in a black suit perfect for the occasion. He held himself stone-faced through the entire wake, listening as friends and loved ones spoke of Michael as they knew him, as he never got to.

His last sight of him was in his coffin, looking unearthly beautiful, far unlike the withered man he'd spent the past few months falling in love with. He said a silent prayer before hiding in the bathroom of the funeral home, trying not to crack. When he got out he was asked by the family to help be a pallbearer. He hadn't planned to go to the actual burial, but couldn't bring himself to reject them.

With a few other men, one he recognized as Michael's father, another as a close friend who visited, he lifted the coffin, bringing it out to the hearse. He was pushed into a car with the family, the graveyard not far away, getting out when it was time and hauling the coffin to it's final resting spot. It was lowered to the ground and a priest said a few words and everyone was given a flower to throw on his coffin before they started to cover it with dirt. 

Gavin went last purposely, his flower being the final bit of loveliness tossed onto the box before the dirt began to cover it. That was it. With that toss it was truly finished. He was alone again.


End file.
